


we fuck, till we come, to conclusions

by redpandawriter



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Angst, Dialogue Heavy, Introspection, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Linear Narrative, POV First Person, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpandawriter/pseuds/redpandawriter
Summary: Peking paused in his exploration, humming thoughtfully, “Playing coy doesn't suit you.”“I'm not playing.”“Then perhaps you should leave.”He said that, yet neither of us made any motion to leave the room. The silence felt both harsh and oppressive. Like a fish only noticing the net once it'd been caught.“I'm not very good at this game,” I finally said.Boston Lobster attempts to understand the complexities of love and Peking Duck.





	we fuck, till we come, to conclusions

The digital clock sat unremarkably on the bedside table, with a bright 2:04 AM in neon red staring at my back. I sat across from the clock at a desk with my head cradled in my arms, staring blankly into a large fish tank, it's light the only thing illuminating the entire room. A lone lobster sat inside, missing one of her claws.

 

“Quite lucky aren't you?” I could feel my antennae twitching towards her, as I spoke, “That at least it'll grow back?”

 

_ Just yours, at any rate, _ I thought, acutely aware of the missing weight from my back.

 

* * *

 

_ “I recall there being a term of which they call clawless lobsters.” Peking mused aloud, tracing gentle and curious fingers along the small of my back, taking in the details of a body seldom touched by even its owner.  _

 

_ “Yeah, it's uh, a bullet.” _

 

_ “And the other?” _

 

_ I suppressed a shiver, whether it was from the featherlight touches or the soft voice I wasn't sure. Though it was strange since I could feel the heat of the steam rolling off me, and I struggled to understand how Peking could stand to be so close. So I tried not to think about it. “What other?” _

 

_ Peking paused in his exploration, humming thoughtfully, “Playing coy doesn't suit you.” _

 

_ “I'm not playing.” _

 

_ “Then perhaps you should leave.” _

 

_ He said that, yet neither of us made any motion to leave the room. The silence felt both harsh and oppressive. Like a fish only noticing the net once it'd been caught. _

 

_ “I'm not very good at this game,” I finally said. _

 

_ Peking tsked at that, “No harm, no foul,” he said as he lead me to lean on him, “Just tell me, what else are clawless lobsters called?” _

 

_ A wave of exhaustion slowly enveloped me, as Peking resumed his curious prodding of my body. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the his doing, with that horrid ability of his, but laying so close I could recognize the signs of his own troubled mind affecting his body. _

 

_ The touching continued, so too did a rising anxiety I couldn't ignore anymore. It brought with it a sense that everything was happening too fast, one that very easily transformed into an embarrassing panic that took me too long to calm down from. My skin was starting to burn. _

 

* * *

 

It had only been 7 months but it felt like years.

 

I remembered going to Spicy the next day to talk about it. It wasn't one of my proudest moments.

 

* * *

 

_ “Are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking,” her eyes so full of worry that it made me feel so much younger than I actually was. Almost childish. _

 

_ “My jokes are awful, but I don't make any in poor taste.” _

 

_ Whatever answer it was that she wanted, it wasn't this, judging by the pained expression on her face.  _

 

_ She stands up off the couch and paces around the living room for a few moments. “Why?” she asked. _

 

_ I met her eyes with a fierceness that was slowly fading away from within, “I don't have to explain myself.” _

 

_ My response ignited a fury in her eyes, a rage reserved for only when one risked losing all they cherished. “So you're aware,” she said, “then you know how this is going to end? That this is so far beyond even your own brand of stupidity that it's a miracle you didn't die?!” _

 

_ “Spicy, I just slept with the guy, it's not like I let him try anything else.” _

 

_ She threw up her arms, hands curled and mouth imitating a fish out of water. She then left the room in a rush, slamming the door of another closed, but I could hear the crying from across the street. _

  
  


It was one of two times I seriously doubted the merits of seeing Peking. I’d left the house, though not without leaving a note of apology. Spicy was one of the few people I knew that I could call a friend, but as much as I didn't want to lose her… 

 

There were other things I had prioritized over preserving friendships.

 

* * *

 

_ “You understand that there is no going back, yes?” _

 

_ “Yes, I’m not an idiot.” _

 

_ “It never hurts to double check, and I never said you were. _

 

_ “Today shall mark the start of our new alliance. To cleanse this world of all its sins, and resolve to start anew. No more shall we bend to the will of wretched humans. No more shall we be subjected to the curiosity of cruel humans. No more shall we be forced to fight on their behalf in their wars.” _

 

_ “So we burn this world to the ground, and from it’s ashes shall it be reborn, kind of like that?” _

 

_ “It is one that will be shaped by our wills.” _

 

_ “...alright then, let’s get started.” _

 

* * *

 

It had started well enough, Peking was easy to work with.

 

The plans he came up with were simple, yet effective, and so unlike anything I could have thought up. And how easily plans A through G were created, Peking’s mind for tactics and subterfuge were creepy to see at best, and horrifying to witness at worst. I held the honor of being the center of attention for a good many of those plans.

 

Although it’s funny now, in hindsight, the horrors inscribed in those instructions never bothered me because they were to be done against humans. Against the cruel, corrupt, and wretched, all nicely gathered together for their fancy events.

 

It’s funny now, in hindsight, because I had honestly started to trust him.

 

* * *

 

_ I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until I had to suddenly wake up. I was laying face down on the bed, and there was a white hot pain at the base of where my claws usually grew from. I screamed, or at least tried to, there was a strip of adhesive tape covering my mouth so it came out very muffled. _

 

_ hottoohottoohot _

 

_ “Oh, you’ve awoken,” Peking says, his voice as calm as a conversation about the weather, as opposed to sitting on me holding a pointed rod that he was heating up with a bedside candle, “You’re usually so prone to passing out from overstimulation I honestly didn’t think you’d wake up.” _

 

_ I really wanted to scream at him. To demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing. But I couldn’t, thanks to the stupid tape. I also wanted to shake him off me, and get the hell away from that rod. But I couldn’t do that either, along with tightly knotted rope all over my body, I felt entirely sluggish. _

 

_ To scream, kick, hit, yell, anything, dear god just anything. _

 

_ Anything besides lay there helplessly and watch as Peking lifted that damn rod off the candle, and feel the burning heat press against my body. _

 

_ hothothotpleasegodstopitstoo _ **_hottoohotplEASESTOP_ **

 

_ “I know it hurts, but trust me, you’ll be all the better for it if you just cut your losses now.” I heard him say, just barely above noise of my heavy breathing, “There’s too much damage for even a food soul as powerful as you to heal, better to get rid of it than to suffer mal-formed.” _

 

_ And being so powerful a food soul meant my body would stubbornly try to heal whatever damage this asshole was trying to cause. Meaning that that rod was going to be heated and reheated and heated again. _

 

_ imgonnadieitstoohottoohotpleasestoptoohotidontwannadie _

 

_ I could hear Peking give a soft chuckle, “Ah, that’s a good look for you,” he said, wiping tears that I hadn’t noticed away, “You should wear it more often.” _

 

* * *

 

I stayed after that. Or more accurately, I was recovering from what had happened.

 

Honestly what really hurt about the whole thing was the fact Peking was actually right about the state of my claws. The damage was too severe to hope for anything but a misshapen claw. Getting them cauterized was for the better.

 

It was for the better.

 

It was for the better, is what Peking kept telling me, along with ‘just trust me’, ‘stop worrying so much’, and eventually ‘get over it’.

 

The last one was the result of an argument. I didn’t feel comfortable with his touch anymore; I told him as such but he wasn’t too happy about it, as much as I had figured. He had the decency to agree not to touch me anymore, but he ended with the above comment.

 

I didn’t appreciate the implication that he thought I was weak. I just really hate being hot.

 

* * *

 

_ “I’ve made adjustments to the plans, in account of your new lack-” _

 

_ “You don’t have to.” _

 

_ “Boston-” _

 

_ “I’m more than capable of accomplishing this.” _

 

_ “Boston, pleas-” _

 

_ “You don’t get to decide this, and I’m not useless. You haven’t said it but I know you thought it, and it’s why you changed the plans right? Well forget it, I’m-” _

 

_ “Boston that’s  _ **_enough_ ** _. _

 

_ “I have never thought you were useless. The mere suggestion has barely even crossed my mind, but the fact of the matter is that you can’t. Not for lack of trying, because I wouldn’t dare doubt your strength or your intelligence, but you have just lost a great part of your fighting strategy and you are going to need time to adjust to that- Boston, where are you- Very well then, I’ll send up copies to his room.” _

 

* * *

 

I had been attacked by a group of power hungry fanatics who somehow got a hold of some research from the Academy, and it was in thanks to that research they were able to hold me long enough to inflict any damage on me.

 

Those days were generally hazy, but of what I could remember was a constant thrumming pain, murmured prayers, and the tortured cries from somewhere else in the place. I never actually got a good look at it, I could remember laying on stone, but whether it was a church or catacombs was anyone’s guess.

 

How I got out I remember clearly, a blonde food soul in a blue suit quietly strode in and undid the bindings that held me. Our eyes briefly met, but just as quietly as he came in, he just as quietly left. And with him so too did my cohesiveness. 

 

Next I can remember is waking up on a beach shore laying up against a rock. The sun was already setting and still drowsy from just reawakening, I contentedly sat there watching the red and orange gradient slowly fade into a blue and purple one.

 

The night was cool, and so pleasant that I was genuinely considering staying there leaning against that rock for the entire night. But as my luck would have it some idiot decided the flat of the rock was the perfect place to start butchering a wild lobster.

 

I probably wouldn’t have said anything if it weren’t for the fact the lobster was pregnant and seriously who does that at 2 in the morning on the beach? 

 

The human upon seeing me rise to my full height bolted,( figures he was a coward), dropping the poor lobster. As I picked it up and examined it, I saw that most of the eggs were dead from the impact against the rock. Only most, however. It was strange trying to sense out the living ones with my antennae, and ultimately there were only a three or four of the original mass of what I would guess was roughly 200 or so eggs.

 

And it was there on that flat rock where I encountered Peking.

 

We talked about nothing for a few minutes, it was mostly about the lobster eggs I was holding, then he invited me to his hotel room. We talked about nothing some more, I got a cup of water for the eggs, and Peking got more curious about me.

 

Any food soul over a century in age could feel the distinct sense of wrongness that accompanied Peking. But only a food soul my age could feel the distinct sense of kinship that accompanied those of us who have seen the worst of humanity. Peking was no more dangerous than I could be, so I had convinced myself that I could handle him, keep myself from drowning in his poison. His darkness can’t be any worse than mine.

 

It had started off well enough.

 

* * *

 

_ “You, you’re..?” _

 

_ A woman dressed in an ornate cheongsam and feather boa turned from her perusal of the books lining the shelves and gave me a painfully polite smile, “Yuxiang, and you must be Boston Lobster, you look absolutely nothing like your descriptions from the Food Association.” _

 

_ “Your insults suck, I have a few questions for you.” I glared at her with a fierceness I hadn’t felt in a few months. _

 

_ She scoffed, “That wasn’t an insult, trust me, you wouldn’t survive an insult from me. Now hurry up and ask, I’m rather busy at the moment.” _

 

_ “How close are you to him?” _

 

_ Lightly humming she responds, “Close to whom?” _

 

_ I slowly let out a breath, trying to calm myself before I end up saying something stupid. “To Peking.” _

 

__ Yuxiang turns back to the books, pretending to go back to perusing them, “That doesn’t seem to be any of your business.”  
  


_ “Answer me honestly and I’ll answer you honestly.” _

__

_ She paused in her pretend search, looking impressed at my proposal, “A quid pro quo, so even brutes can learn.” _

__

_ I resisted the urge to strangle her and waited expectantly. _

__

_ “Answer me first,” she said turning to face me, “Do you truly care for him?” _

__

_ “I-” it should have been an easy answer, after what he did to me, it should be a no. But somehow it wasn’t. The word trapped itself in the back of my throat and refused to inch anymore forward. As if it knew my feelings better than I. “I, uh-” _

__

_ “I see,” Yuxiang said, “I suppose I’m not as close as I had originally thought.” _

__

_ She left the library, and me with a sense of deep melancholy and a subtler sense of regret. _

 

 

* * *

__

I had once asked Peking why everything to do with him had to be so layered and complicated. He didn’t laugh at me, but I could sense his amusement very clearly and responded that it helped give him some peace of mind.

__

The logic behind that made no sense to me. Or at the time it just seemed needlessly complex. Peking lived his life like he was weaving a spider’s web, and the attention to every single detail he paid left me dizzy and hopelessly lost.

__

I get it now. That’s essentially the point, in an ‘if you can’t dazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit’ kind of way.

__

Still, it also meant I might never truly know Peking. That I might have been warned about the web but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to getting caught in it. And yet, I can’t help but think, the more we talked, of all those times Vodka joked about picking a poison when we hung out. 

__

I’m not much one for alcohol (though I have developed a taste for vodka, unsurprisingly), Peking was something just as equally intoxicating. Hooked on just the taste, on barely a sip. It was heavenly, for being someone that was probably harmful for my health, but maybe the start of all relationships were like that.

__

Filled with uncertainty, cautiousness, and endless dancing around the giant elephants in the room.

__

Yeah, right.

__

* * *

__

_ “Ah! Okay, okay hold on.” It felt overwhelming, as I sat atop of Peking, pausing to catch my breath from riding him. The room was unbelievably hot, and along with the pleasure, my head was starting to hurt. “I can’t, I just can’t.” _

__

_ Beneath me I heard Peking tsk at me, “Is this all you can handle?” _

__

_ I resisted the urge to choke him, seeing as how pain was a thing he was into, and so as not to spend anymore energy than I had to, lest I pass out with a dick still in my ass. “M’head… hurts.” _

__

_ It was quiet for a moment, with Peking looking up at me pensively, “Alright, we can stop, but I want to try one more thing before we do,” he shifted a little, and I had to force down a groan at the spike in pleasure inside me, then smirked at me, “think you can hold out a little longer?” _

__

_ I tried to glare at him, but judging by his snort, it probably looked really pathetic. He sat upright, with one hand guiding me to lean on him, and the other slipping fingers into my already stretched entrance. It stung but I was too tired to react. Breathing was even harder when pressed against a warm body and my head was starting to feel light. _

__

_ Peking’s fingers probed around, I couldn’t recall the name of what he was looking for but when he found it my vision briefly went black and I almost forgot my name. The aftermath left me feeling tingly everywhere and strangely cold. And like the bastard he was, Peking zeroed in on that spot, repeatedly pressing against it without pause or mercy. _

__

_ The pleasure was intense, so much so that I was shaking, and probably drooling all over Peking’s shoulder. I barely felt his hand thrumming gently threw my hair, pushing me further into him, like a perverse embrace.  _

__

_ After a particularly powerful wave of sensation, I finally did pass out. I have no idea for how long, but when I finally did I found myself laying on my stomach surrounded by ice packs. My entire body feeling pleasantly sore. _

__

_ “For someone so usually loud and brutish in public, you are awfully quiet in the throes of passion,” Peking sat in a chair with a lone duckling atop his head that was quietly sleeping, holding a book in his hands.  _

__

_ “Is… that supposed… to piss me… off?” My voice was scratchy; it was unsurprising that I was thirsty. _

__

_ The expression Peking gave me in return was not one I was expecting; it was a genuinely contented smile. Not a smirk, faked serenity, or even any sense of cheer. Just a sense of contentment. “I mean no offense, I simply find this honesty of yours endearing.” _

__

_ “You call… this… honesty?” _

__

_ He tilted his head, his content turning thoughtful, “Was le petit mort you felt before passing out not genuine?” _

__

_ If I wasn’t so damn tired I might have laughed at that. “Now… what you… just said is… honesty.” _

__

* * *

__

I really wish I knew what his response to that was, but just as soon as I’d awoken I fell back asleep, and had almost completely forgotten about this conversation.

__

Peking’s general lack of honesty, his inclination towards secrecy, and his preference for subterfuge was what ultimately contributed to my having of second thoughts about us. There is no faith without doubt, but that can only exist when having good faith is possible, and the empty weight upon my back was proof enough to quell any doubts about the extent of his methods.

__

Yet, of what else I knew of him wasn’t anymore promising. 

__

When only one of the lobster eggs that I had rescued hatched, I ended up feeding the dead eggs to one of Peking’s ducklings. It was a strange contrast to the rest of his character, albeit a pleasant one. For all his deceit however, this one was the most blatant and the most simple to understand.

__

These little ones had imprinted on him, after what I can only assume was the loss of their mother, and Peking embraced his role as caretaker. But what was often mistaken for a generous and caring nature, was what I saw as an attempt at normalcy. It wasn't the ducklings themselves that were important, but rather that feeling of which they gave him, a sense of stability to calm the turbulence in his mind.

__

As the time spent on this rock wears on, the seams that have long held together our sanity begin to unravel. I realize this but I don't feel any urgency, and I don't think Peking is any different. We sit in a pot watching our indifferent maker slowly turn up the heat. We don't fight back, we just cope.

__

* * *

__

There is a mirror inside the fish tank, which let's me know that the time is 2:43 AM. It also lets me see how awful I look. I try to ignore it but it would be obvious to even strangers that I wasn't sleeping well, if at all. There was dirt stuck under my fingernails and my hair had long since lost its shine.

__

The best a healthy food tended to look was around the late 20’s. Whoever was in the mirror staring back at me looked more around their mid 40’s.

__

The lone lobster sitting inside the tank flicked her antannae towards me, and I could feel mine twitch in response to her. She was trying to tell me something around the sentiment of ‘relax’. I could only think that my stress was causing her discomfort, so as I sat at the desk with my arms cradling my head, closed my eyes and tried to think only about my breathing.

__

* * *

__

_ “Is something on your mind?” Peking asked me one evening, as we sat on a garden terrace filled with marigolds. _

__

_ “How much I don't like this dessert, among other things,” I reply, referring to the barely eaten treat sitting on the table between us. _

__

_ He smirks and softly snorts, “Tiramisu is considered and elegant compliment for espresso coffee.” _

__

_ “I don't care for coffee, and I prefer savory foods over sweet ones.” _

__

_ “I see,” he responds, the air of amusement shifting to one of thoughtfulness, “I too have a preference towards savory over sweet.” _

__

_ I turn to face him, as he says that, only to find that he's looking away and at the sunset. His expression carefully blank but tense to the point that I'm afraid it'll break. _

__

_ “You know,” I begin, my hands picking at the hem of my jacket, “I hate confessions.” _

__

_ He doesn't outwardly react and his expression doesn't change, but he did respond, “As do I.” _

__

_ “So why drag this out, then?” _

__

_ And finally he turns to face me, “Because I-” _

__

_ The words get caught in his throat, but I don't need to hear them. I saw the answer, clear as the sunset before us, in the way he looks at me. _

__

_ Fin _

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll have no idea how much fun it was to write this.
> 
> Follow me @pandawritesrarepairs for more of me screaming about husbentos.


End file.
